Slippery When Wet
by OpenPage
Summary: Despite his fear of hospitals, Booker is more than willing to play nurse to an injured Tom.


The distinct smell of disinfectant immediately waged an assault on Booker's nostrils, the sharp, astringent scent attacking his olfactory sensors. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and holding his breath, he attempted to block out the offensive odor. He hated hospitals … No, the word _hated_ was too weak, too _ineffectual_ to describe the suffocating panic he felt every time he walked through the sliding doors of _any_ medical institution, be it a doctor's surgery or his grandmother's nursing home. His anxiety stemmed from an irrational fear of contracting an illness, a fear he kept well-hidden as it did not fit with his tough guy, devil may care image. But despite his phobia, he was there, standing in the foyer of St. Andrew's because he had made a one-time only deal with his ego, he was willing to risk it all for the only person in his life who mattered … his partner and lover, Tom Hanson.

A wistful sigh escaped his lips. Tom was the most attractive man he had ever laid eyes on, and even the most innocent of thoughts about his lover made his cock swell. With his chocolate brown eyes, and sweet, tilting smile, Tom had the power to render him completely and utterly gaga, like a lovesick teenager, but with better skin. Not that he'd ever revealed his level of infatuation to anyone other than Tom. He had a reputation to maintain, he was Dennis Booker, the cool, badass cop who loved 'em and left 'em without regret. At least, that's what he told himself. After all, no twenty-three-year-old male wanted to admit they had a sensitive side, and definitely not someone as cocky as Booker. He was a free spirit ... a free spirit who was hopelessly and heart-thumpingly in love with his partner.

With his need to breathe becoming an issue, he opened his mouth and inhaled a short, shallow breath, thereby minimizing his exposure to any airborne diseases. He knew he was behaving like a crazy person, but he couldn't help it, his fear was too ingrained to ignore. Whether he liked it or not, he was a germophobe, but given the nature of his visit, he was just going to have to grin and bear it to the best of his ability. Tom needed him, and that was enough for him to face his fears. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his lover, and that included risking his life in a germ-infested hospital. It was just like the song said, _The Things We Do for Love,_ he'd do anything to make his Tommy happy.

When the elevator doors _pinged_ open, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the fourth floor. He was surprised by the slight tremor in his hand, but he put it down to excitement rather than nerves because he was _never_ nervous, at least not outwardly. He hadn't seen Tom since the ambulance took him away, the memory of the flashing lights and wailing siren sending a shiver down his spine. After clearing the scene, there had been the paperwork, mountains, and mountains of paperwork followed by a rather heated interview with his captain, and by the time he was free from all the bureaucracy, it was well after midnight and too late to visit Tom. But none of that mattered now, he was at the hospital, and he was about to see his baby.

Stepping out of the elevator, he checked the room numbers and proceeded down the long corridor. The sound of coughing had him quickly covering his nose and mouth with his hand, and he briefly wondered if Tom would object if he sprayed him with some form of disinfectant when they got home. The vision of his lover standing naked, arms and legs outstretched while he (dressed, of course, in a protective suit) pumped Lysol over the young officer's quivering body brought a smile to his lips. He was behaving irrationally. Tom wasn't diseased, he was only ...

Walking into room forty-three, Booker held out the bunch of flowers in his hand. "Hey, baby. How're you feelin'?"

A heavy scowl darkened Tom's brow, and ignoring the bouquet, he threw his lover a resentful look. "How do you think I'm feeling?" he snapped. "I was shot in the ass … by _you!"_

It was not the reunion Booker had hoped for, and placing the flowers on the overbed table, he attempted to explain himself. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he muttered, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. "I guess my aim was off."

"You think?" Tom shot back, his voice rising hysterically. "How the fuck can you mistake _my_ ass for an escaping fugitive's?"

Booker smothered a smirk. The bullet had only grazed Hanson's backside, but the way the young officer was carrying on, anyone would think he had needed life-saving surgery. Not that Booker begrudged him the sympathy and attention he was receiving from his fellow officers. Getting shot in the ass by a stray bullet was pretty embarrassing, especially when the shooter was your lover. Tom deserved some pampering, he just wished he was the one doing it.

Unsure how to explain his actions, the dark-haired officer did what he did best when he found himself in a sticky situation; he used humor to defuse the tension. "Well, in my defense, it's a very nice ass … firm, round, and very fuckable. You can't _really_ blame me for getting distracted."

Tom's lips twitched into an amused smile, but he quickly covered his grin with a scowl. "Yeah? Well, you still shouldn't have shot me."

Booker had no answer to the self-evident truth behind Tom's statement, so he quickly changed the subject. "How long are you gonna be here?"

Although still annoyed, Tom wasn't one to hold a grudge, and he decided to let the matter drop. "I dunno, another day I think. They wanna make sure there's no infection."

It wasn't the news Booker had hoped for, and his expression soured. Like himself, Tom was bisexual, and the thought of anyone fussing around his baby made him uneasy. While he trusted his lover implicitly, he did not have faith that everyone else held the same values. Tom was more than just beautiful, in Booker's eyes, he was exquisite, a God in human form, his physical perfection extending beyond the bounds of what nature intended. But it wasn't just his pretty face the dark-haired officer was attracted to, it was also his intriguing personality. He was sweet, outspoken, funny, serious, honest, thoughtful, and fiercely private all rolled into one, an enigma that kept the dark-haired officer guessing. Tom was everything except boring, which made him attractive to both women _and_ men, and it was this knowledge that made Booker nervous.

"So, are the nurses taking good care of you?" he inquired, the hint of animosity in his voice betraying his feelings.

Tired and sore, Tom's brain failed to register the envious tone, and he absently nodded his head. "Yep," he affirmed, his gaze focusing on the bunch of flowers lying on the table. It was an odd gift to bring, but that's what he loved about Dennis, the dark-haired officer was unpredictable, and that was just the way he liked it.

Booker's lower lip formed into a jealous pout, his sulky expression publicly confirming his resentment. "Better than me?"

When the penny finally dropped, amusement crinkled the corners of Tom's eyes. Providence had handed him a golden opportunity to play on the dark-haired officer's insecurities, and seizing the chance to tease his lover, he flashed an evasive smile. "Maybe."

The frown knitting Booker's brow deepened momentarily before he realized Tom was purposely provoking him. But being an alpha male, he wasn't about to let him get away with it, and as an idea slowly formed in his mind, a beguiling smile twitched at his lips. He would show his lover a thing or two about caregiving, plus, he needed something to take his mind off the disturbing sounds echoing throughout the hospital, and what better way than showering his lover with some tender care and attention?

"So," he suggested in a soft voice, his head tilting alluringly to the side. "Do you wanna fool around?"

The question took Tom by surprise, and at first he thought his lover was joking. But when Booker closed the door and pulled the curtain around the bed for privacy, he chuckled, his fingers rubbing nervously over his upper lip. "Jesus, Booker, we're in a hospital. What do you think we're gonna do, play doctors and nurses?"

"Mmm, interesting idea," Booker pondered, his long, thick lashes fluttering seductively. "But I was thinking more along the lines of nurse and _patient."_

For Tom, role play was still a very new sexual practice, and cocking his head seductively, he raised his eyebrows in question, a slow smile parting his lips. "So, I guess I'm the patient?"

"That's right, _Officer_ Hanson," Booker purred, his hungry gaze drinking in the splendor of Tom's masculine form. "Now be a good boy and lie on the bed."

The soft, commanding tone of Dennis' voice ignited a fire in the pit of Tom's stomach, the warm glow spreading down to his genitals. His partner was a master in the art of seduction, and every slow move, each carefully chosen word, the light feathery touches, and long, desirous looks, were all custom designed to bring him to his knees. The dark-haired officer knew how to push his buttons, and his cock would harden beneath his lover's dark, coveted gaze, without any need for stimulation. It was a gift, and Tom was more than happy to be the recipient.

With a small, dutiful smile, the young officer climbed onto the bed and lay down, the hardening mound sheathed within the soft cotton of his boxers already clearly defined. He knew he was in for a treat, Booker had a lively imagination, especially when it came to sex, and he knew how to spice things up without even trying.

"Someone needs a wash," Booker purred, his eyes spying a clean washcloth and towel folded beneath a plastic bowl.

The heat in Tom's loins flared, sending a rush of blood straight to his cock. He watched with growing anticipation as Booker filled the bowl with warm water, every slow, precise movement increasing his level of excitement. When the water was a few inches deep, the dark-haired officer placed the basin and towel on the overbed table, and with the white washcloth in hand, he climbed onto the bed and straddled Tom's lower legs.

"Let's start with the arms," he murmured, and immersing the washcloth into the warm water, he carefully wrung it out so as not to soak the sheets. Taking hold of Tom's hand, he lifted his arm and lightly wiped the warm cloth over the bare flesh. Immediately, the young officer's skin rippled with goosebumps, the titillating sensation raising his nipples into hard nubs, and a contented sigh whispered from between his lips. Booker could be an egotistical sonofabitch at times, but when it came to foreplay, he was an attentive, considerate lover, whose sole intention was to please. It was what set him apart from so many others, he understood and happily indulged his partner's wants and needs.

With his lower lip pushed out in concentration, Booker lovingly drew the washcloth over Tom's flesh, taking care to wash under his arm. The slow, leisurely caresses quickened Tom's heart, the sensuous feel of the rough cloth arousing his senses. His cock swelled, and closing his eyes, he focused on the erotic sensation of the warm fabric sweeping lightly over his skin, his body awakening with each tenderly delivered stroke.

After repeating the process with the other arm, the dark-haired officer picked up the towel and lovingly patted the droplets of water from his lover's flesh, making sure to fastidiously dry between his fingers. Once satisfied, he discarded the towel and picking up the washcloth, he dipped it in the water, and with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, he twisted the fabric over Tom's bare chest and stomach, sending hundreds of tiny water droplets scattering over his smooth flesh.

"Oops," he grinned and dropping to his hands, he lowered his head and dipping his tongue in Tom's navel, he swirled the tip in the circular, knotty depression, absorbing the moisture captured within. The quiver of Tom's stomach muscles vibrated against his nose, bringing an impish smile to his lips. He was the puppeteer, masterfully pulling Tom's strings, and with God as his witness, he was going to make him dance.

With one final swirl, he continued his exploration. His tongue traced a slow, wet trail over Tom's stomach, lapping at the delicate beads of moisture peppering his perfect skin. He nipped and sucked at the taut flesh, the sweet, musky taste of his lover's sweat mingling with his saliva, the intimate familiarity hardening his cock. When he reached a nipple, he grazed the flesh with his teeth, and he was rewarded when it responded to the stimulation, tightening into a tight bud. His tongue toyed with the raised mound, flicking, and licking, his body drawing pleasure from the tactile sensation. Pressing his lips against the warm flesh, his tongue swirled over the brown areola in an oral massage, his tender attention eliciting a loud moan from above. He smiled into the warmth of Tom's skin, his germ anxiety temporarily forgotten. He was in carnal heaven.

The feel of Booker's hot tongue rasping against his skin sent a shiver of arousal down the entire length of Tom's body, and a soft moan exhaled from between his lips. His erection strained against his boxers, tenting the material, the tip touching the front of his lover's jeans, and seeking friction, he thrust his hips upward and rubbed his swollen cock against the rough fabric of the worn denim.

Not about to let his lover take control over their play, Dennis lifted his head and shook it slowly from side to side. "Nuh-uh," he chided softly, his dark eyes devouring the delicious vision of Tom's flushed cheeks. "Not until you're clean."

Tom squirmed in frustration. "Please," he begged softly, his dark, soulful eyes conveying his desperation. "I want to feel you touching me."

Booker sat up, his enigmatic expression thoughtful yet slightly teasing. "Are you asking me to wash you _down there?"_ he asked innocently, as though the idea had not occurred to him.

Unable to hide his enthusiasm, Tom's head bobbed vigorously up and down, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his growing arousal. He was so achingly hard, the tip of his penis had escaped the confines of his boxers, and it now peeped through the vertical fly, making its presence known. Booker's tongue darted out, the wet flesh trailing lasciviously over his upper lip, his gaze soaking in the provocative sight. He almost abandoned the idea of the bed bath, the desire to swallow Tom whole testing his self-control. But he quickly took charge of his impulsive nature, and slipping his fingers under the waistband of Tom's shorts, he held his lover's gaze. "Okay," he murmured softly, tormenting the young officer by lowering his underwear an inch at a time, in a slow, erotic striptease. "But only 'cause you asked so nicely."

Once free, Tom's erection lay flat against his taut belly, the soft blush of the mushroom-shaped head an attractive shade of pink. With large, feverish eyes, he watched his lover dip the corner of the washcloth into the water, his legs shaking with the promise of what was to come.

"Mmm, who's a dirty boy?" Booker crooned, taking his time to lightly dab the cloth against the tip of Tom's cockhead, the dainty, feathery strokes lovingly wiping away a bubble of precum. "Someone's _waay_ too horny."

Tom's toes curled in response, and he longed to feel Booker's talented fingers jerking him off. But he knew his patience would eventually be rewarded. _"Yess,"_ he breathed. "I am, I'm so fucking horny."

"But we have to get you nice and clean first, don't we?" Booker taunted in a soft, singsong voice. "Then maybe I'll suck you so hard, you'll pop like warm champagne."

A loud moan tumbled from between Tom's lips, his body writhing beneath his lover's touch. "Oh, God … Yes, yes … suck me, _please_ suck me."

Booker grinned, his own cock now a noticeable bulge in his jeans. "Not yet, my beautiful boy," he murmured, and wrapping the washcloth around Tom's penis, he slowly dragged the fabric over the erect shaft, the nubbly texture providing a tantalizing friction against his lover's hardened flesh.

"Fuck!" Tom gasped, and grabbing a handful of the blanket beneath him, his hips lifted from the bed, the short, jerky thrusts pushing his cock deeper into Booker's hand. "Oh, God, Dennis, that feels _soo_ good."

With slow, persuasive strokes, Booker continued to rub the washcloth over the full-length of Tom's shaft, occasionally pausing to brush the toweling fabric over his engorged head. "You like that, don't you, Officer Hanson," he purred, the thumb of his free hand rubbing over his own impressive bulge. "You like it when I make you nice and clean."

The erogenous sensation had the desired effect, and Tom's movements became more frenetic, his need to come consuming his mind. "I'm so hard, Dennis," he moaned, his breath exhaling in short, shallow pants. "Oh, God, I'm so fucking hard."

Not wanting to miss the main event, Booker discarded the washcloth, and dropping to his hands, he expelled a slow, whispery breath over Tom's cockhead, the silky tendrils tickling the sensitive flesh. "Ready, beautiful?"

He received his answer when his lover's long fingers tangled in his hair, and ducking his head, he took him between his lips. Immediately, Tom's hips thrust upward, the urgency releasing a flood of precum onto Booker's tongue, the unique flavor fueling his own desires. With skilled fingers, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his cock into his hand, and as his hot, moist mouth worked its magic over Tom's shaft, his hand fell into rhythm, his body bobbing in a well-rehearsed cadence to the silent sexual mantra coursing through his veins. Two bodies became one, the scent of sex and sweat permeating the air in the small room, the rasp of Tom's breath adding a musical backbeat to their rousing performance. They were oblivious to their surroundings, lost in the fabric of time, the only sound drumming in their ears the frantic pulse of their hammering hearts. United as one their bodies writhed together, united as one they would spill forth their love.

"I'm close," Tom moaned, his long fingers raking through Booker's dark hair.

Booker's lips smiled around his lover's erection. This was the moment he lived for, and inhaling a deep breath through his nose, he began to hum.

The soft, sensual vibration pulsated over Tom's cockhead. He could feel his climax building, low in his belly, and as it gathered force, his thrusting became less controlled. "Oh, God," he gasped. "I'm gonna … I'm gonna … I'm …"

His legs stiffened, and with a low, guttural cry, his orgasm shot forth, the force filling Booker's mouth with his semen. When the salty fluid mixed with his saliva, a burst of flavor exploded in the dark-haired officer's mouth, the amorous tang pushing him closer toward his release, and with several swift strokes, he too ejaculated, his warm juices splattering Tom's legs.

With a contented sigh, he caressed his softening cock as he lovingly lapped and sucked at Tom's dwindling erection. He took his time, his tongue savoring the saporous tang dancing over his taste buds. But when gentle hands beckoned him from above, he lifted his head and crawling up the bed on his hands and knees, he hovered over Tom's body before ducking his head, their lips touching sensually together for the briefest of moments. The contact was fleeting, leaving Tom wanting, and parting his lips, he sought out his lover's moist tongue. As their kiss deepened, the tangy taste of semen lingering in Booker's mouth mixed with their saliva, the masculine flavor stimulating Tom's taste buds. It was a powerful exchange between lovers that bound them together. It was their elixir of life, and Tom knew he would never tire of the taste.

With his arms growing weary, Booker reluctantly broke the kiss, and flopping down next to Tom, he gathered him in his arms and tenderly pressed his lips against his forehead. "Am I forgiven?" he asked, his dark, sated eyes searching his lover's face.

A slow, cheeky smile played over Tom's lips, and snuggling in close, he pressed his mouth against his lover's ear and whispered his answer. "Only if you wash me again."

 _Finis_


End file.
